


through the fire

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: After Harry breaks her heart, enter Neville to pick up the pieces.





	through the fire

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Hysterical sobbing echoes throughout the otherwise silent house, originating from the only occupant in an upstairs bedroom. Home alone once again, Ginny sees no need for a silencing charm, yet she muffles her face with her pillow.

_I promised myself I would never cry over him!_ she screams inwardly to herself, punching the pillow for effect. Her eyes are puffy, her long red hair wild with negligence and fury. She honestly can’t decide whether she’s hurt or angry at him for leaving her this way; perhaps it’s both. Either way, she should have seen it coming, shouldn’t have let herself fall as hard as she did… she should have known better.

“I fucking hate being a girl!”

This time she yells out loud, answered by only the birds happily chirping outside her window and the continued deafening silence of the house. She can’t remember it ever being this quiet at home. Being the only remaining Weasley child in school, she finds herself alone quite often. Usually Mum is around, but lately she’s been heavily involved in the upcoming war, constantly doing something or another for the Order.

_That’s all right_ , Ginny thinks somberly. _I’m a little too old for Mum to make everything all better_.

Arnold the Pygmy Puff curls up in her lap, purring as Ginny surreptitiously strokes his fur. The vibrations are somewhat calming, allowing her to temporarily abandon her persistent emotions in favor of absolute nothingness. _Too bad it can’t stay this way_.

If Ginny has learned anything in her sixteen years of life, it’s that nothing ever stays the same. People change; they grow up and move on, indirectly leaving her behind. Just this morning, Ron hugged her tight and wiped her tears before saying good-bye and leaving on his journey with Hermione and… and…

_Harry_. A fresh wave of tears flow down her face simply by thinking his name. She had been strong during their farewell, holding back her emotions and faking a cheerful face as she wished him luck. While she has faith that he will return triumphantly, she definitely did not see herself in his future. War changes people, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Harry ended up changing more than anyone would have ever thought possible.

_He told me he loved me_. And he had. Down by the lake, right before the whole fiasco that signaled the end of their childhood innocence and the beginning of adult tragedy. Ironically enough, she also lost her own innocence that day, giving herself completely to him. Because he loved her.

It was because he loved her that he left her. Ginny knows this and understands the logic behind his decision, but it still hurts. It hurts because she knows everything won’t go back to the way it was after the war, no matter how much either of them want it.

Cursing again, Ginny punches her mattress and starts slightly as it bounces back against her fist. Arnold flies out of her lap and scurries across the room, quickly escaping the relentless wrath of his owner. Clasping her hands to her face, she sobs loudly, incoherently, nothing but shrill exclamations and hot, stinging tears.

Right now, she hates everything and everybody. She’s tempted to hex the next person that walks through her door strictly on principle. Because if she is hurting, so should everyone else. Especially someone who would dare to bother her while she’s in such an emotional state.

She raises her brown eyes, shined over with tears, to the door in question and jumps at the sight of someone actually standing there. Leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching her in silence, his expression unreadable, all Ginny can think is, _This is not Harry_.

She lowers her wand, which she didn’t even know she was aiming steadily in his direction, and he takes this as permission to enter. Wordlessly, he crosses the room and sits next to her on her bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Ginny.”

The words leave his lips, sympathetic and kind, and Ginny shakes her head. She doesn’t want to hear it; she’s already heard it all.

“No,” he says firmly, placing both hands on Ginny’s face to still her. “You need to hear this. This is _not you_. You are strong.”

“Why are you here?” asks Ginny quietly, her voice rough from crying.

“Because I care,” he says. “Luna showed me your last letter. We’re very worried about you.”

Abruptly escaping from his hold, she flops face-down on her bed and prepares herself for yet another lecture. One that never comes.

She feels hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. Slowly, he turns her around, and she sees that he’s hovering above her, their faces inches apart.

“You are a beautiful person, Ginny,” he whispers, brushing her hair out of her face with a swipe of his hand. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I _know_ ,” she replies irritably, narrowing her eyes. “Everybody’s told me the same fucking thing, and I’m honestly quite tired of listening to your lots’ condescending bullshit.”

He smiles, which she finds odd given her tone, and he reaches out to touch her face again.

“Everybody doesn’t feel about you the way I do.”

Ginny’s jaw drops from surprise, and she can’t reply even if she had something to say. His mouth claims hers softly at first, pressing his lips tentatively against hers as though he expected her to pull away. When she didn’t, he slides his hand up to her hairline and tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like an eternity later, he lowers his head, flushed and breathless. Leaning his forehead against her cheek, he lifts his hand to intertwine his fingers with hers, which she didn’t even realize had been gripping his wrist tightly.

“I’ve loved you forever,” he says between gulps of air. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She studies his eyes, her vision and mind suddenly clear for the first time in weeks. _This is not Harry. This is –_.

“Neville.” His name rolls off of her tongue easily, and she wonders why she’s never contemplated this before.

He smiles that goofy smile, the one she’s seen so many times, only this time his lips are slightly pink and swollen from kissing.

Looking up at him through the unruly strands of red hair that frame her vision like fire, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, change could be all right after all.


End file.
